


What Did He Say

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dorks, E/R - Freeform, Fluff, Homophobia Mentioned, M/M, Slurs, Stabbing, combeferre and eponine being adorbs in the background, enjolras was stabbed so tw? I guess, really vague mention though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:46:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has to learn how to box with Grantaire because he is an idiot who started a fight at a protest, and lost miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another prompt fic, and hopefully a little bit better than my last one. Enjoy comment and check out my tumblr apollowned.tumblr.com

"I’m not cut out for this." Enjolras told the floor, the hair that had escaped from his ponytail far earlier in the evening falling into his face. He could live on the floor, he decided. It wouldn't be so bad, it sounded a lot better than standing right now.

"Come oooonnnn man." Grantaire whined hopping up and down beside him like a five year old, shaking the floor just enough to hurt Enjolras's head which was rested against it. R didn’t even have a glimmer of sweat on his forehead the absolute bastard. Enjolras swore pushing himself back up and regretting it as his muscles screamed at him .

"I hope you know that I sincerely, and fervently hate you." He told Grantaire seriously but the man just grinned toothily back, before throwing another punch.

Enjolras dodged it with minimal amounts of wincing, the scabbed over skin pulled tight as he twisted to avoid Grantaire’s large fist.

"We wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't gotten yourself shanked at a rally dumbass." Grantaire told him wagging a finger teasingly as Enjolras threw a punch back that he easily dodged. His grin showed no signs of the desperate panic that had covered his face when the event actually took place, but to be fair Enjolras much prefered this smugger and happier look.

"It wasn't my fault!" Enjolras protested straightening his back, a gesture that would have been intimidating if Grantaire wasn't smirking at him like a parent whose child had just unintentionally gotten himself into trouble.

"You threw the first punch, you have to take responsibility for the rest of the fight." Grantaire scolded, barely moving to dodge Enjolras's fists.

"He shouldn’t have brought out a knife, it wasn’t a fair fight." Enjolras complained wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.

"Yeah sure Apollo." The black haired man rolled his eyes and punched Enjolras in the stomach, skillfully avoiding his still sensitive scab and hitting far too gently to actually affect the blonde much."You know it is almost comforting how supremely bad at fighting you are. I mean it does remind us that you are human. A prancing, idiotic-"

Enjolras kicked out at him, hitting Grantaire in the shin angrily and startling out another laugh from the man. “You’re the actual worst.” He pouted.

"See you shouldn't be mean to the man who is doing you a favour." Grantaire told him not looking at all affected by the kick except for a wider smile, that somehow instead of aggravating Enjolras further, just made him soften slightly.

"You’re right. I’m sorry." He apologised with a curt nod and Grantaire’s mocking smile turned into a fond one.

"Why did you punch the guy anyways? I was a bit busy keeping Gav from stealing the counter protesters wallets." Grantaire asked walking to the stool where he had placed his water bottle at the beginning of the lesson and passing it to Enjolras and sitting down to wait for his answer.

"He was getting personal." Enjolras said shortly, sneering at the thought of the older mans words before taking a drink from the bottle.

"I have never seen you get mad like that over a couple below the belt shots, and I have seen people call you some shitty things. Hell, I have called you some shitty things." Grantaire persisted.

"That is different." Enjolras dismissed lying down on the floor, to tired to worry about Grantaire’s questioning.

"Why?"

"Jesus christ R. Leave me here too die." Enjolras moaned closing his eyes.

"I mean I had to use my sweater to put pressure on the bleeding. I honestly thought you were going to die" Grantaire was basically muttering now, but Enjolras could hear him as there was no other sound in the room. "Ruined that sweater by the way." his voice losing the soft quality and going back to joking. "So tell me, what cracked your marble coating, at least so I can avoid it."

"Unfortunately you say things like that constantly. I just don’t punch you for it generally." Enjolras commented with a frown.

"So tell me and I won’t say it." He requested with a sincerity that rarely entered his gravelly voice.

"That’s highly unlikely." The man on the floor told him still not opening his eyes.

"Okay, how about this, if I say anything like what he said again, I promise to stop arguing with you during meetings." Grantaire bargained, everyone knew that of all of Grantaires sins dishonesty wasn’t one of them. So Enjolras told him.

"He confused me for one of the counter protesters and called you a dirty good for nothing faggot." Enjolras snapped, trying to move on from this topic.

"Wait what?"


	2. Enjolras May Be Completely Insane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire is pretty sure Enjolras has finally cracked, so he consults the panel of judges that he for some reason calls his friends.

"He has finally snapped." Grantaire ranted taking a gulp of wine and closing his eyes. "Or courf slipped coke into his raviolie. Which is a scarily possible excuse."

"Or he likes you." Joly said mechanically rubbing his eyes.

"He would beat up people for all of us, I am just being ridiculous." Grantaire waved his hand as if he was dismissing all his thoughts, and his friends words.

"Yes, but not for the reason you think." Eponine's voice came from Joly's laptops small tinny speakers.

"He did punch out a guy for slapping my ass at the pride parade." Bossuet contributed with a shrug.

"Yeah but has he ever got stabbed because he tried to beat up a six foot seven bible thumper because he said something mildly offensive about you?" Joly asked with a smirk.

"No, I don't think I have ever seen him do that for someone, isn't that strange?" Bossuet agreed sharing in the grin.

"Apollo just did it cause he feels bad for me, the resident drunk. It's like kicking a drunk lame puppy." Grantaire paused for a second. "A drunk lame puppy who also has been kicked seventeen times in the past hour." 

"I don't think-" Musichetta began, stopped by Joly raising his hand to stop her.

"It's best not to interrupt when he get's in his flow, he doesn't really listen." Eponine's voice seemed tired even in the crappy speaker, she was supported with a nod from Bossuet and Joly and a glare from Grantaire.

"You know it's rude to talk about people like that when they are right there." Grantaire complained throwing his face into his hands, somehow still able to hold the bottle.

"You know it's rude to ignore your sensible friends when they are being, you know, sensible." Eponine countered from the grainy screen.

"Eloquent." Grantaire grumbled back, not taking his face out of his hands.

"Her small vocabulary does not take away from her point R. Listen to our advice." Musichetta pushed getting nods from her boyfriends.

"What is your advice again?" Grantaire asked looking up from his hands eyebrows furrowed.

"The same advice as it always is." Joly smiled at him, him and Bossuet the only two still grinning, not showing any signs of the late hour. 

"Remind me?" Grantaire requested to the annoyed groans of all his friends.

"Nail him dumbass!" The four cried in unison, grinning proudly at each other when they noticed they had all said the same thing.

"I'm feeling like there is a consensus here." The black haired man groaned rolling his eyes at his friends. 

"There has been a consensus for months, you just can't argue anymore you fucking dumbass." Joly said smile growing strained, more than a little bored of this conversation which they had had in many variations throughout their friendship.

"I can argue actually, that is like, the only thing I can do." Grantaire shrugged with a smirk.

"He basically just admitted he has feelings for you, what can you possibly argue at this point." Musichetta asked, the newest to this discussion.

"The distinction between basically admitting your feelings, and admitting your feelings, is an important one." Grantaire pointed out.

"He always argues. He is an idiot." Bossuet told Musichetta ignoring Grantaire initially before grinning to him widely.

"I forget why all of you are my favourites, why didn't I go talk to Combeferre, he is sensible." The artist shifted in his chair awkwardly before taking a small sip of wine.

"Combeferre started a collection of mustard last week, sensible is not the word one should use to describe him." Eponine rolled her eyes on the screen before the mentioned man popped on screen.

"What are we saying about me?" Combeferre asked his chin placed on her shoulder so he could be seen with the small camera.

"Oh dear lord is he wearing moth pyjamas. I retract the sensible statement." Grantaire rolled his eyes without a hint of venom.

"Hey I custom ordered these, don't knock the moths." Combeferre slid into the seat next to Eponine kissing her head quickly before looking at the camera to enter the conversation. "Again, what are we talking about?"

"We are saying Grantaire is a huge baby that Enjolras is in love with." Bossuet caught the man up cheerily.

"Oh, I thought you were arguing." Combeferre shrugged seeming much less interested already.

"We are." Grantaire affirmed crossing his arms over his chest, the picture of a stubborn child.

"Oh dear lord, you're both such idiots." Combeferre huffed running a hand through his already messy brown hair.

"Wait why is Apollo an idiot?" Grantaire straightened up suddenly invested.

"Nope, I'm out. Not getting involved in this shit show. Not even for Ep." Combeferre sped out of the frame, presumably to go to bed.

"Hey get your boyfriend back here, and ask what he meant by that?" Grantaire pleaded eyes wide all focus on the screen.

"Nope. I can only ask so much of the poor dear, he had already had to deal with Marius and Cosette today, I can't force him to deal with more shmoopy-ness." Eponine sighed looking off to the bedroom door where Combeferre had disappeared behind. "Also, I just realised my cat is on fire I gotta go." Her screen went black immediately and Joly closed the laptop.

"She doesn't have a cat." Bossuet stated obliviously and the rest of the group shrugged.

"Honestly, I am tired and you never will take our advice not matter how many people Enjolras beats up for you so I am taking my boys to bed." Musichetta told Grantaire simply dragging the two said boys to their shared room.

"Worst friends ever." Grantaire mumbled into his wine bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So people asked for another chapter, so if after this one we need another I can do that, IDEK. If you want another chapter ask thanks for reading (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras goes to consult with his own group of friend, cause gosh Grantaire is so strange.

"And then he got all flustered and swanned off." Enjolras fell into his sofa pouting magnificently. "We had another hour of training left. Maybe he just doesn't want to teach me to box. I'm not exactly the best student."

"You can say that again, remember when I tried to to teach you how to make a fan." Feuilly commented from the kitchen stealing the whipped cream canister and waving Courfeyrac and Bahorel over.

"Oh god you're right! I shouldn't have agreed to this, he will hate me." He paused. "More. He will hate me more."

"I really don't think he hates you at all." Combeferre told him sitting in the armchair next to the couch watching the kitchen cautiously.

"Yeah, he doesn't hate you, he is far from hating you, actually he is more on the realm of being completely in love with you." Bahorel inputted throwing marshmallows into the frankly horrifically orange jug.

"Then why did he just leave?" Enjolras asked not turning around.

"I don't know, what did you say to him? Because if you insulted Van Gogh again, I call being the first to smack you. Or second, because R would have definitely slapped you, victorian woman style." Courfeyrac told him pouring Strawberry flavouring into the jug.

"No, I learn from my past mistakes." Enjolras grumbled rubbing his cheek.

"So what did you say?" Combeferre prompted putting a hand on his friends knee.

"Well he asked why I hit that guy at the protest and-" Enjolras began only to be interrupted by Bahorel.

"TRIED, to hit that guy, I wouldn't classify what you did as hitting, more of aimed flailing." Bahorel grinned to himself as he pushed down the trigger on the whipped cream.

"I was curious about that as well." Courfeyrac added scooping nutella into the jug.

"Well, I TRIED to hit that disgusting man, because he was saying... badthingsaboutGrantaire." He rushed out, looking at the floor as the door opened to reveal Jehan wearing bright yellow sunglasses, and pastel purple skinny jeans and button up holding a large tray of coffees.

"Aaaaaaaawwwww my god. You two are so adorable." Jehan cooed rushing around the apartment and handing out the cups and ruffling Enjolras's hair before sitting beside him on the couch.

"Why do I suddenly feel like a puppy?" Enjolras asked himself as the rest of the group crowded around Jehan, Bahorel still holding the jug.

"I'm not sure if adorable is the right word." Feuilly shrugged sipping his coffee.

"Well I am." Jehan insisted. "Enjolras fighting for Grantaire's honour, what could possibly be more adorable?"

"I don't know, maybe a Koala, Koalas are really cute." Bahorel said before tipping the jug so the mixture went into his mouth.

"Guys, focus, why did Grantaire hurry off?" Enjolras crossed his arms.

"I don't know man, maybe he actually had somewhere he needed to be?" Combeferre suggested cooly.

"He said his cat was on fire." Enjolras raised one eyebrow. "He doesn't have a cat."

"How about, I know crazy suggestion, you ask him?" Courfeyrac suggested taking the jug from Bahorel and sipping from it himself.

The group looked at Enjolras all eyebrows raised. 

"But-" He began, interrupted by loud groans from everyone in the room.

"Nope. No stupid excuses, give us one good reason why that is a bad idea." Jehan ordered taking off his sunglasses and looking at Enjolras as seriously as he could manage.

Enjolras sat silently for a couple moments, sifting through his mind for such a reason, finally after two minutes he sighed. "Fine." He snapped getting up off the couch and grabbing his coat.

"What are you doing?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Going to ask him." Enjolras explained quickly, walking out the door and slamming it behind him before anyone could say anything else.

"Should someone go and give him his shoes?" Feuilly questioned casually, looking at the red converse that were beside the door.

"Nah, it's summer, he's fine." Courfeyrac dismissed, passing the concoction to Combeferre, who looked at it warily.

"For science." He announced before taking a big gulp.


	4. Where are your shoes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idek if anyone is going to read this, but you know writing is always good.

Grantaire swung open his door rubbing his eyes violently. 

"Eponine what have we said about waking me up before three?" He asked not looking at the person in his doorway as he turned around to walk into his kitchen in search of coffee.

"Don't?" A voice that definitely wasn't Eponine's answered, still at the doorway. Grantaires back straightened and he rushed back from the kitchen, eyes wide as he took in the blonde standing at his doorway. His own hair was barely brushed and he realized then that he wasn't wearing a shirt, his hand immediately went to cover the "Everything's shit" tattoo that was on his hipbone, like he did when it was his mother at the door.

"Sorry Apollo, I'm not used to being awake before two." He stared at the stock still man in his doorway, taking in his almost unprecedentedly anxious expression, as he shifted from foot to foot. Which he now noticed were bare and bleeding. "What the fuck E, where are your shoes?"

Grantaire forgetting his self consciousness immediately, dragged Enjolras into the apartment by his elbow, eyebrows knit together as he pushed him towards his couch.

"I-I must have forgot." Enjolras told him, voice dazed, waving the question away as he blinked at Grantaire. "R, I have to ask you something?"

"Great, you do that, once I make sure you don't get infected or some shit." Grantaire nodded as he rushed to the bathroom to get some towels and he hurried back to wrap Enjolras's feet, which were dripping blood onto the white carpet and then groaned when he saw the glass scattered on Enjolras's jeans. "What made you think it was a good idea to walk in my neighborhood without shoes? Whatever I don't care. Okay Apollo, not to blaspheme but you need to take off your pants."

"What?!" Enjolras seemed to break out of his daze and he looked down at Grantaire, with a strange mixture of hope anger and shock.

"Glass, E. Broken glass to be more specific, you decided to wander around the bad part of down now you have some embedded into your feet and on your jeans. And I need to disinfect the scratches or you will get infected, and Joly will kill me, unless you strip and I get you a pair of shorts you can put on." Grantaire avoided Enjolras's face as he jogged to his bedroom to get the shorts, leaving the blonde sitting on the center of the couch, mouth open, and eyes narrowed. 

Enjolras took a moment to collect himself before shucking off his pants. After his pants were off and he had neatly folded them, placing them on the couch and he sat back down taking in Grantaire's apartment. It wasn't as bad as Enjolras had expected to be honest. It was dark, one of the two windows covered by a charcoal painting of Eponine and Combeferre cuddled together on a couch, and the other had black paint covering it, only specks of sunlight peeking out. 

The kitchen was recently cleaned, only one bottle in the recycling bin and the living room was tidy beside the books scattered on the coffee table. There were pamphlets used as bookmarks, and as Enjolras leaned forward to inspect them he noticed that they were all from his rallies, going back as far as three years. 

He also noticed that despite small doodles scattered around the books and even carved onto the coffee table it was obvious that no pen or pencil had ever touched any of the pamphlets. 

And as he pulled them out he let a small smile escape, noticing how over time the art that they had used on the fliers got better and better, though if a picture had a small "r" at the side it was enough of a guarantee to Enjolras that it would be fantastic, the constant practice had made them significantly better. He felt slightly less guilty for perpetually asking for Grantaire's help, which while R had assured him it was no trouble but he always felt slightly bad for. 

"Good it looks like you have lost the place in all of my books, not like I marked them for a reason or anything, I'm sure I will be able to find my page by memory, won't be a problem at all." Grantaire monotoned rolling his eyes as he passed Enjolras the shorts making sure to pointedly look at the roof. He paused, before going to the kitchen to grab the first aid kit from under the sink.

"It's not actually that bad." Enjolras tried to assure Grantaire, only causing Grantaire to roll his eyes and huff as he pulled a pair of tweezers out of the kit and went to work on the green pieces of glass embedded into Enjolras's foot.

"You know you just signed by death warrant, Combeferre is going to rip out my lungs." Grantaire told Enjolras when he winced as he tried to distract the man. "I like my lungs surprisingly. I mean I started smoking when I was about thirteen and they haven't given up on me yet, so they are something to be proud of."

"Thirteen?" Enjolras asked, voice tight.

"Yep. Stole him from my Dad, he beat the crap out of me for it, so being the little shit I was I decided to steal some from almost every pack he bought." Grantaire smirked up at Enjolras who smiled back lips white at the edges as Grantaire pulled out more glass from Enjolras's foot.

"Are you ever going to stop being so annoyingly unpredictable?" Enjolras asked, eyes squeezed shut.

"Eponine can predict me, why don't you ask her, I am sure she will give you some notes." Grantaire shrugged, eyebrows furrowed as he pulled out the last pieces of glass out of Enjolras's foot. "Or Joly and Bossuet. Or Jehan, or Bahorel, Combeferre too, and obviously courf, Musichetta is getting there. So either they are all psychic or you are just super bad at guessing people."

"So do all of them know why you ran off yesterday?" Enjolras asked hissing as Grantaire poured a small amount of disinfectant onto the cuts. 

"Whelp, there it is."


	5. The Question

Contrary to popular belief Grantaire is actually aware of how strange he can come off as.

He knows that running off after someone tells you something important is not socially acceptable in most circles.

But he is also aware of the fact that Enjolras never acknowledged such social conventions, so he was sort of hoping to take advantage of his obliviousness just this once.

But the universe hates him so, here he was kneeling right in front of Enjolras's crotch, which was distracting enough, trying to come up with an acceptable answer for the man.

Grantaire wiped his hands on his jeans, not worried about the blood and disinfectant that would surely stain them as Enjolras levelled him with a curious look, head tilted.

"Look." Grantaire started, holding his hands out as if that would help Enjolras understand what he was saying. "I know you would start a fight for any one of your friends, and as annoying as that is, it's admirable. I just didn't know I met those qualifications, so I was a little surprised, and I admit I overreacted, so sorry, we will reschedule."

Enjolras took a second to process this before frowning. "You don't think I consider you a friend?" He clarified, speaking slowly, forming each word with confused precision.

"Well, yeah kinda." Grantaire shrugged, looking down at the bloodied glass that was sitting next to him on the coffee table. "I mean, we never talk outside of the meetings except to continue arguments, and- and in the meetings I have never done anything but annoy you. You hate how much I drink, we have nothing in common, you don't like my art, rightfully so, but you don't have anything to base a friendship with me on."

"Grantaire, I don't dislike your art, I just don't get art as well as the rest do." Enjolras took in a slow breath. "Also, you promised."

"Hmm?" Grantaire met his eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

"You said that you would stop doing that." Enjolras insisted, mistaking Grantaires confusion as disagreement.

"What?" Grantaire asked.

"Insulting yourself." Enjolras clarified, and the realization dawned on Grantaires face.

"Actually I promised not to call myself a "good for nothing faggot"." He corrected, scratching at the scruff on his face. "Though neither accusation is technically wrong, I understand our anger at the use of faggot. it is actually pretty offensive-"

"Oh dear lord." Enjolras covered his face with his hands. "Do you honestly think that the problem I have is hearing the word "faggot"? Because, I go to rallies, which have a lot of counter protesters, I have heard it before. That's not why I punched him."

"Well I know that, it was a mix of that and him insulting one of your posse." Grantaire dismissed. 

"No it was because it was you." Enjolras pressed.

"I knew it!" Grantaire smirked standing up to go wash his hands, certain that he had found the right answer. "I'm glad to have the pity of the gods, I told Eponine, insulting me at this point is like punching a lame alcoholic puppy."

"No." Enjolras followed the man huffing with exasperation. "You thick man!"

Grantaire full on grinned as he turned on the tap and began washing his hands. "Not nice to punch a lame alcholic puppy."

"No. I don't mean-" Enjolras took a deep breath. "What I mean is, it wasn't pity Grantaire. I don't like it when people insult things I care about."

"Yeah, I know that is what I said before, no one messes with Enjolras's posse, I get it. Sending a message." Grantaire said it slowly like Enjolras was being the ridiculous one.

"Are you being stupid on purpose? Are you trying to get me to say it?" Enjolras demanded.

"No, I'm not doing this on purpose, I guess I am just stupid naturally, and say what?" Grantaire replied looking more confused than ever.

"Oh I am going to kill you." Enjolras seethed, angry that Grantaire was making him vocalize his emotions.

"Now you are acting like the Enjolras I know again." Grantaire walked out of the kitchen taking a dustpan with him to pick up the glass he had picked out of Enjolras's foot from the coffee table. Enjolras was busy opening and closing his mouth like a guppy before he noticed Grantaire sweeping the glass into the pan with his hands, getting scrapes all over his fingers.

"You are the absolute worst." He growled grabbing Grantaire's hand and pulling them away from the task.

"Hey, I am not getting mad at you for walking around my house with bleeding feet. Let me clean it up." Grantaire huffed. 

"Oh yeah, sorry forgot you had carpet." Enjolras glanced at the bloody footprints all over said white carpet. 

"I actually meant because it must be just as painful, but yeah, totally not getting the security deposit back." Grantaire followed his eyes before shrugging, realising that one of his hands was still in Enjolras's.

"Back on point R." Enjolras blushed, feeling guilt well in his veins. "I did it because I care about you."

"Oh." Grantaire let it fall out of his mouth, looking far to shocked at that revelation than made Enjolras comfortable. "Thank you Apollo, I think of you as a friend as well."

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!" Enjolras yelled, patience snapping. "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST FUCKING ACCEPT THAT I FUCKING LOVE YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE DOUCHE!"

"Oh." There was a moment of silence in the apartment. Enjolras looking at the ground blushing furiously and Grantaire looking at Enjolras. 

"I'm sorry, your neighbors will probably complain-" Enjolras began to apologise before his mouth was covered by Grantaire's.


End file.
